Domestic Bliss
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Collection of unrelated and nonlinear Romione slice of life drabbles and oneshots.::10. Ron doesn't like the house being so empty. Hermione has a solution.
1. Not For Decoration

_Written for the Hogwarts Forum_

 _Honeycomb (feather duster)_

 _Word Count: 627_

* * *

"Blimey! You look exhausted," Ron says as Hermione drags the final box into their new home.

His girlfriend narrows her eyes at him, and he quickly realizes that he's said the wrong thing. Ron takes an involuntary step back, wondering how many boxes he'll need to keep between them for his safety in case she decides to jinx him.

"I just mean-"

"Save it," Hermione says sharply, and he's grateful to see that she keeps her wand in its resting place. "You can make it up to me by unpacking while I pick up lunch."

"Is it always this easy to get back in your good graces?"

With a grin, Hermione steps closer. She leans in dangerously close, her lips inches from his. "I'm sure you don't want to find out," she chuckles before pressing a small kiss to the corner of his lips. "I think I'll walk. Enjoy a bit of fresh air."

Ron glances at the stacks of boxes that line the house as far as his eyes can see. He deflates slightly. Unpacking alone wouldn't be too bad, but he's certain now she'll take her time just to spite him. Still, he can do it.

"Pizza?" he suggests.

"Pizza," she agrees with another quick kiss. "Enjoy!"

…

The first twenty minutes pass by smoothly enough. Ron clears through several boxes and puts away the contents, quite pleased with himself. Hermione probably thought he wouldn't be up to the task, that he'd put it off until she returned with pizza. A smug smile plays at his lips. There aren't enough opportunities for him to prove her wrong, but he's happy to have found one now.

He moves to another box and pulls the flaps out before reaching in. He pulls out a strange contraption with feathers attached to a short plastic rod. Curious, Ron holds it out, examining it.

It must be a Muggle thing. Hermione likes to balance magical and Muggle aspects in her life. Still, he doesn't understand what it is.

"Almost looks like a tiny broomstick," he muses, tucking it between his legs.

It does nothing. He shouldn't be surprised. After all, Muggles can only fly if they use those weird metal birds.

Ron lifts it again, thumping the feathers. Maybe it's a decoration? Seems a bit strange, but he's come to accept the fact that Muggle things will probably never make sense to him.

He takes the feather contraption and moves it to the shelf, trying to set it up. Immediately after he releases it, it tips over. Swearing loudly, he tries again but with the same result. Another attempt, another failure.

…

When Hermione returns home, Ron has never been happier. "How does this trinket stand?" he asks, frustrated. "I tried the feather half and the plastic half, but it keeps falling."

Hermione frowns in confusion, setting the pizza on top of the nearest box. "What are you talking about?" she asks, joining him at the shelf.

Ron holds the feathered thing up, scowling. "This! It doesn't make any sense," he grumbles, flourishing the contraption. "And what sort of decoration is it anyway? A tribute to birds?"

Hermione's lips pull into a thin smile. Ron groans. She only has that sort of look whenever she knows something he doesn't. "It's a feather duster, Ronald," she laughs. "You use it to get rid of dust."

"Can't you use a spell for it?"

"Muggles can't," she reminds him. "I like doing things the Muggle way sometimes; it's relaxing."

Ron turns the duster over in his hands, brows raised. "How does it work?" he asks.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough," she teases. "Come on. Lunch. After struggling with the duster, I'm sure you need to build your strength again."


	2. Breakfast and Painting

_For the Hogwarts Forum_

 _Roald Dahl Event (Write about something that only happens once a year. Ticket Prompts: afternoon, shy, juice, three)_

 _Writing Club, Showtime ("Wait For It", a watch)_

 _Word Count: 673_

* * *

"Daddy!" Rose calls, standing on her tiptoes and stretching, her arms just shy of reaching the table. "Daddy! Juice!"

Ron smiles to himself, easily scooping his three year old daughter up and handing her the sippy cup she's so desperate to grab. "Happy?" he asks with a soft chuckle.

The girl nods, happily sipping on her juice. "Thank you, Daddy," she says sweetly as he sets her back down.

"Ready to get back to work?" Ron kneels and holds up his hand. Rose offers him a high five before walking off to the paint and glitter he's laid out on the floor for her enjoyment.

Ron takes a moment to watch his daughter play happily in the craft supplies, smearing colorful streaks over the large sheet of paper. Here and there, paint misses the paper and gets onto the white tile floor, but Ron doesn't worry. A simple spell, and the floor will be as good as new.

After several moments, he glances at his watch, frowning. He doesn't have much time to waste. The fact that Hermione is still asleep is a miracle. He can't risk her waking up yet. His plan isn't fully in place yet.

"Daddy! I made an obber!" Rose says proudly. "Just like Mummy likes. Obber! Obber!"

"It's a lovely otter," he says before turning to the stove.

Ron cracks his knuckles. In theory, he knows how to cook. He's watched his mother do it for years. Somehow, he can manage this. At least, he hopes he can. The last thing he needs is for his big plan to be ruined by setting the whole house on fire.

He lifts an egg, cracking it and letting the innards drop into the greased pan before repeating the process. Eggs seem simple enough. He mimics the movements he remembers his mother doing, moving the spatula along, scrambling the eggs as he goes. It's amazing how the eggs cook through, transforming from runny blobs that look like snot into something fluffy and fragrant.

Once satisfied, he sprinkles a bit of pepper over them and transfers them onto a tray.

"Daddy! Look! Budderfy!" Rose says happily, clapping her paint-slick hands together to draw his attention.

"Beautiful butterfly," Ron chuckles. "Needs more glitter."

"Yeah! It needs glitter," she agrees with a squeal.

Ron waves his wand, sending bacon to the skillet, enjoying the savory scent fills the air as the meat sizzles. As it cooks, he prepares the pancake batter. While he doesn't know much about making pancakes, it's become a birthday tradition to always have them on the table. It only seems fair that Ron make an effort when Hermione has done it every year since moving in together.

…

Ron looks around the kitchen, a proud smile on his lips. No mess- minus Rose, who is now coated in paint and glitter. The piles of food on the table may not look as perfect as something Hermione could whip up, but it looks good enough. "Exceeds expectations," he muses.

"Ronald! It's one in the afternoon!" Hermione's cry from the bedroom reaches the kitchen, and Ron tries not to laugh.

"It's your day off, Hermione!" he calls back. "Relax!"

"Relax? There's still so much I need to do. Rosie needs breakfast and I-"

Her sentence dies as she steps into the kitchen. Eyes wide, she looks around. Slowly, her lips pull into a surprised grin. "You did this?"

"Happy birthday," he says.

"You didn't have to…"

"It's only once year. You deserve a proper celebration," he chuckles.

Rose holds up her artwork shyly. Beneath the paint smears on her face, her blush burns a deep pink. "I made this, Mummy!"

With a laugh, Hermione lifts their daughter. "Thank you, love. After we eat, I think someone needs a bath," she says, pressing a kiss to Rose's nose.

"Me! Me!"

Ron watches his wife and daughter, unable to fight a grin. Sometimes he wonders how he could get so lucky and have such a perfect family. Today, he's happy he can treat them.


	3. Spoiling Dinner

_For the Roald Dahl Event (pastry room: fluff)_

 _Word Count 554_

* * *

When Ron comes home, he finds Hermione on the sofa. Rose sits beside her, her head resting on her mother's pregnant belly, smiling and giggling.

His daughter sees him first. "Daddy!" she squeals, sitting up straight. "I was talking to my brother!"

Hermione looks up at him with tired eyes, a small smile on her face. "Hugo kicked," she explains. "Rosie is determined to make him kick again."

Ron smiles and joins them, sitting on his wife's other side. "I brought you chocolate," he tells her, presenting her with the gold box.

Hermione eyes them suspiciously. "Not something from the Skiving Snackboxes, I hope," she says.

Ron rolls his eyes. He had played a trick on Hermione one time, and she hasn't trusted his gifts since. "Are you ever going to let that go, dear?" he chuckles.

Rose leans closer. "Chocky!" she says eagerly. "I want!"

"Just one," Hermione says. "I don't want you spoiling your dinner."

With a happy, excited squeak, Rose opens the box and plucks a chocolate dome from it. She pops it into her mouth before clapping her hands. "It's good, Mummy! Super good!"

Ron smirks at his wife, an unspoken _told you so_ in his eyes. Hermione picks up on his triumph and rolls her eyes. She takes a chocolate from the plastic tray and nibbles it, still cautious.

"That's good," she says with a satisfied sigh. "Really good."

She eats it quickly before grabbing another and popping it into her mouth. Her eyes close for a moment, seeming to lose herself in delicious sweetness.

"Mummy! You're gonna spoil your dinner!" Rose says sternly, folding her arms over her chest.

Ron snorts, somehow managing to disguise it as a cough before his wife can notice and glare at him. Hermione opens her eyes, a blush staining her cheeks. "Right," she agrees, but her eyes continue to steal longing glances at the sweets. "Rosie, what's that over there?"

When their daughter's attention catches, Hermione quickly sneaks a third chocolate. Rose turns her head quickly back to her parents, frowning. "Did you eat another one?" the toddler asks, poking her lip out. "You're not s'posed to do that! Daddy, tell her!"

Hermione looks at Ron, brows lifting, almost daring him to comment. Ron clears his throat, adjusting his shirt collar awkwardly. "Sorry, Rosie. Mummy is a bit scary when she's pregnant."

Rose pouts, but Hermione kisses his cheek. "Smart move," she chuckles.

With a grin, Ron climbs to his feet. "Shall I get some takeaway?" he asks, knowing Hermione's feet have been swollen lately. He doesn't want her to have to stand on her aching feet and cook for them.

"Please."

Ron scoops his daughter into his arms, resting her on his hip. "Come on, Rosie. Let's get some Chinese."

"But Mummy will eat all the chockies!"

Ron considers this for a moment. Hermione has already eaten another chocolate, so Rose has a point. "Chinese and lots of chocolate?" he suggests.

Rose considers for a moment before clapping her hands, nodding. "Lots and lots of chocky! Lots and lots!"

"Lots and lots," Hermione agrees, nibbling yet another. "And some ice cream?"

Ron nods, chuckling to himself. The way Hermione goes through sweets with this pregnancy, he can only assume that Hugo will be the sweetest little boy the world has seen.


	4. Taking Care

_For the Roald Dahl Event (snot shots: Write about someone who has a cold or the flu)_

 _Word Count: 456_

* * *

"Honestly, Ronald, I don't know why you're so-" Hermione's sentence is interrupted by a sudden coughing fit. She groans, closing her eyes for a flicker of a moment before opening them again. "-worried. I'm fine."

"No offense, Hermione, but you look like hell," her husband says gently. "Back to bed."

She scowls. Under ordinary circumstances, she might have gotten offended that he'd said she looks like hell. Now, however, she is too exhausted. She's been up all night coughing; her chest feels like it's on fire, and she's afraid she might have cracked a rib from the force. "I have to go to work," she reminds him.

Ron shakes his head, wrapping an arm around him. He leans in as though to kiss her but thinks better of it. After a moment of silent consideration, he settles for a kiss to the top of her head. "I'll send word that you're under the weather," he assures her. "Then I'll get ahold of Mum. She always keeps extra batches of Pepperup Potion around this time of year."

Hermione opens her mouth to protest, but a cough comes out instead. She groans, sniffling. Her body screams for her to take his advice, but her mind insists that she has a job to do. Her body wins out. She slumps pitifully against her husband. "I hate being sick," she murmurs.

Ron laugh, carefully placing an arm around her and guiding her back to their bedroom. "I don't think anyone likes being sick."

"There's actually a condition called Münchausen syndrome where-"

Ron laughs. "If you're reciting random things, you're already a step closer to feeling better," he teases.

It doesn't matter how absolutely miserable she feels. Hermione cracks a smile as she snuggles closer to her husband.

He guides her onto the bed, stroking her hair before pulling the blankets over her body. Hermione shivers despite the waves of heat that seem to radiate from her body. With another groan, she allows herself to sink back into her pile of pillows. No matter how much she protested, being back in bed and resting feels wonderful. "What about you?" she asks.

"George will understand if I need to stay home," he assures her.

"You don't have-"

"You've taken care of me so many times," he sighs, shaking his head. "Let me do the same for you for once."

She smiles. "Fine."

Her husband presses another kiss to the top of her head. "I'll be back with soup and Pepperup Potion," he says softly. "Sleep until then. You need it."

Hermione watches as Ron goes, smiling to herself. She curls up, her eyes heavy. Being sick may be miserable, but at least she has a wonderful husband to make it more tolerable.


	5. Not So Urgent Emergency

_Written for the Hogwarts Forum._

 _Writing Club, Showtime, "My Shot" (scrappy)_

 _Roald Dahl Event: Puree de neige (snowman)_

 _Word Count: 370_

* * *

"Dad!" Hugo calls, skidding to a stop, his brown eyes wide, his cheeks flushed a bright pink. "Mum!"

Ron jumps to his feet, his wife following suit within seconds. Hermione is the first to reach their son. "What is it, Hu?" she asks, stroking his hair. "Where's your sister?"

"Outside," he says, out of breath. "You've gotta come see!"

Ron and Hermione exchange a quick glance before following their son out. Ron's mind sprints, his thoughts clouding his mind. With the fresh snow, so many things could have gone wrong while the kids were playing outside.

"Come on!" Hugo urges, rounding the corner of the outside of the house until they reach the field.

Ron doesn't know what exactly he's expected. Rose, on the ground, crying with a broken ankle. Rose, fallen on the frozen pond, a pool of blood spilling onto the dark surface.

But he certainly doesn't expect to find two figures carefully crafted from snow. A man and woman, he realizes with a smile. They're scrappy, thrown together with whatever the kids could find, but it takes him only a few seconds to realize that they're meant to look like him and Hermione.

"We made these for you!" Rose says proudly, adjusting the Gryffindor scarf around the snow Hermione. "Do you like them?"

Ron lets out a relieved sigh. Hermione slumps against him, letting out a soft laugh; her mind must have raced just as much as his had.

"They're beautiful," Hermione says. "But why did you act like it was such an emergency?"

"Because they're cool! It _was_ an emergency!" Hugo insists. "You had to see them!"

Ron shakes his head, grinning. It reminds him of him and siblings in their younger years, and he suddenly realizes how many times they must have scared their mother half to death because of their excitement. "Well, I'm glad we got to see them," he says. "I think these are so good that you guys need some cocoa as a reward."

Rose's eyes glisten with excitement. She rushes forward, hugging Ron, then Hermione. "Yes, please!" she calls as Hugo joins in the hugging session.

Still smiling, Ron wraps an arm around his wife as they lead their children inside.


	6. Spider Slayer

_For the Hogwarts Forum_

 _Haunted House: Write about Ron's fear of spiders. Omen prompt: fortune._

 _Count Your Buttons: teddy bear, "Somebody's got to do it, so it might as well be me."_

* * *

"Daddy!"

Ron chokes on his coffee, spewing the bitter liquid as the sound of his daughter's shrill voice cuts through the house. Hermione offers him a napkin and an amused smile.

"Daddy! There's a spider by my teddy!"

Hermione reaches out for her husband, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I can go," she says. "I know you're still scared of spiders."

Ron's face floods with heat. It seems silly now, really. He's faced Death Eaters and fought so many battles, yet spiders make him revert back to a frightened, helpless child.

He climbs to his feet, shaking his head. What sort of example is he setting for Rose if he lets his phobia get the best of him? "Somebody's got to do it, so it might as well be me," he reasons, kissing his wife's forehead. "Besides, she called for me."

"Go, Spider Slayer," Hermione teases, giving him a gentle push. "Save the day."

His bravado fades the moment he reaches the hallway. Ron takes a deep breath. He has to do this; Rose has to know that facing fears is a good thing. Swallowing dryly, he takes another step, forcing himself to quicken his pace when Rose calls for him again.

"It's okay, sweet girl," he says, entering her room. "Daddy is here. Now, where is it?"

Rose jabs a tiny, trembling finger at the air. Stomach twisting into knots, Ron follows its direction to his daughter's beloved pink plush teddy bear. He expects to see a gigantic spider, but fortune seems to smile on him. The spider is smaller than a bottle cap. He sighs, relief washing over him.

"Here we go," he says, squishing it quickly beneath his finger. His stomach goes sour at that, and he feels like he might throw up.

 _Gotta be strong for Rosie_ , he reminds himself, swallowing back the stomach acid.

"See?" he says brightly, wiping his thumb against his trouser leg. Merlin! He can still feel it on his skin. "Everything is okay. No more spider!"

Rose pokes her lips into a small pout. "No more baby spider," she says, and Ron groans when he realizes she's using the same tone Hermione uses to correct someone's oversight. "The mummy spider is still here!"

"Right…" He pats her head, trying to ignore the cold sweat that beads his forehead now.

"She's big!" Rose says. "About as big as my hand, Daddy!"

"I… Um… _Hermione!_ "


	7. Changes Over Ice Cream

For the Hogwarts Forum

Count Your Buttons: ice cream cone

Around the World: Iran (ice cream)

Trick or Treat: Romione

* * *

"I got your favorite," Ron says as Hermione joins him. He holds up two ice cream cones— chocolate for himself and a strawberry vanilla swirl for her.

His wife accepts it with smile, placing a small kiss to his cheek before licking her frozen treat. "Well?" she asks, sitting across from him. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

He raises his brows at the question, caught off guard. Sure, he actually did want to talk to her about something, but he hadn't given her any indication of that. "What, uh, what makes you think I have something to talk to you about?" he asks, focusing his attention on his own ice cream.

Hermione lets out a small chuckle and rolls her eyes. She gives him a look that he knows all too well. It's the look that says he's an open book. "You always want ice cream when something major happens or is about to happen," she says. "I remember you and Harry got it before your last exam with the Auror's Office because it was good luck."

Ron clears his throat before running his tongue along the edge of the cone, lapping up some of the melted ice cream that has begun to drip. He shouldn't be surprised. Hermione has known him for years; by now, they know each other better than anyone else ever could.

"Speaking of that," he begins, his thumbnail worrying against the cone. It should be easy to say. Hermione has always been supportive, so why she should stop now? "I'm thinking of leaving the Aurors."

She studies him for a moment. Ron assumes she's searching his face for any sign of a punchline. Seemingly satisfied, she nods. "Any particular reason why?" She laps at her ice cream, taking care not to make a mess with it.

"I want to help George run the shop."

He waits for the fallout. Leaving law enforcement is one thing. Leaving it to help run a joke shop… He's not sure that many people would be too thrilled.

Instead, Hermione nods. "I think it's brilliant."

This isn't what Ron had expected. A frown tugs at his lips, and he clears his throat. "Because I'm not a good Auror?"

His wife rolls her eyes before nibbling at her cone. "Honestly, Ronald," she sighs, "we both know that isn't true. You worked hard for it, and you're amazing. But I know you. You're tired of fighting."

"Oh."

The two of them sit in silence for a moment, both enjoying their sweet treat. Neither speak again until the last traces of ice cream are licked away and the cones are consumed.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" she asks quietly.

"Definitely. I want more time with my family. And George wants someone to help him."

Hermione takes his hand gently in hers, nodding. "Then go for it."


	8. Three Words

_TV, John: Hermione Granger, loyal, cane_

 _Word Count: 342_

* * *

Ron feels awkward using the cane for support. He groans, leaning against it and wincing. "When did we get old, Hermione?"

His wife laughs and presses a small kiss to his cheek. "That's what happens when the years pass."

He chuckles and shakes his head. Typical Hermione. Her quick wit hasn't changed a bit in the sixty years that they've been married. Really, not much has changed about her at all. Though her messy curls are streaked with grey, and her face has lines and wrinkles, she's still as beautiful as she had been the first time they met. And her heart… God, her heart is as beautiful as the rest of her. They've been through so much over the many decades, and she's stayed by his side, loyal and kind. He wonders how he got so lucky.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks. "I know that face. You're having a deep moment, aren't you?"

His thin lips pull into a smile. "It's been known to happen from time to time."

She lifts a brow, gesturing for him to continue.

Ron doesn't know how. Just as she hasn't changed, he is still a creature of habit. The years have taught him to embrace his emotions, but he still doesn't know how to express them.

He opens his mouth, but the words refuse to come out. Really, he thinks all the words would be insignificant. How can he explain to her that she makes him feel like the luckiest man alive? Are there enough words in the world to tell her that she still takes his breath away, that he wants nothing more than to have a thousand more years by her side?

He doesn't think so. The words are so flimsy, and they could never cover everything.

Instead, he leans against his cane and pulls her closer with his free arm. "I love you," he whispers.

And maybe he can't express everything he wants, but those three words bring a smile to her face, and he thinks that maybe they're enough.


	9. Told You So

Serpent Day, Japanese rat snake: Romione

Character Appreciation: Muggle car

Showtime, "One Short Day": Muggle London

Buttons: Romione

Insane House Competition: meeting someone's family for the first time

Word Count: 494

* * *

"Are you sure?" Hermione asks as they approach the rental car. "You're still getting the hang of this, and driving in London isn't like driving in the country."

"Relax, Hermione. I've got this."

Admittedly, Ron isn't as confident as he acts now. Learning to drive had been Hermione's idea, and he had been reluctant to give it a try. He's gotten better at it, but she's probably right. This may be too much for him to handle. Still, he wants to try. It's his first time properly meeting the Grangers, and he knows they're still a bit sensitive about magic after the whole Memory Charm ordeal two years earlier.

Hesitantly, Hermione gets into the passenger seat. Ronald takes his spot, doing a quick check.

"I can drive if you need me to," she assures him, squeezing his shoulder gently.

"I want your parents to like me," Ron admits, his cheeks burning at the confession. "If they see me making an effort, maybe it can help."

"They're going to love you, Ron," Hermione says. "Trust me."

Really, he does. He knows he's being ridiculous and putting too much thought into everything, but he can't help it. Hermione means the world to him, and he doesn't want to screw this up. It easy to let the negative thoughts get to him, but Hermione's gentle reassurances help ease his mind.

"Right. Let's do this."

…

Meeting Hermione's parents is possibly the scariest thing he's ever done. As he parks the car, Ron realizes he would much rather face every spider, Death Eater, and dark wizard in the history of mankind. It isn't that there's anything wrong with them; Hermione has always told him amazing stories about how wonderful they are. It's just terrifying because he doesn't know if they'll think he's good enough.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asks.

"Fine. Perfectly fine."

With a roll of her eyes, she leans in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You're a terrible liar."

"That should be a good thing."

He shifts awkwardly before sighing. When he knows he can't sit there much longer, he finally unhooks his seatbelt and opens his door. Best to get things over over with than let them drag on.

"You must be Ron!" a woman with coppery brown curls calls, rushing forward. She puts her arms around him, wrapping him in a quick hug. "Hermione has told as about you."

"I didn't know magic folk knew how to drive," adds a man who can only be Hermione's father.

"A lot of us don't," Ron explains. "Hermione insisted I learn."

Mr. Granger chuckles. "That's my Hermione. She can talk anyone into anything. Well, come on in! Your mother just pulled the roast out."

…

"Congratulations," Hermione says as they reach the car. This time, Ron doesn't object when she takes the driver side.

"On what?"

"You survived meeting my parents," she laughs.

"It wasn't so bad."

Hermione's lips twist into a smug smile. "Told you so."


	10. Empty Nest

_Showtime, We Know: dog_

 _Amber's Attic: RonHermione_

 _Hamilton Mania, getting a promotion: excitement (Hermione Granger)_

 _Word Count: 578_

 _For Ash_

* * *

"Hermione?" Ron glances up from the _Daily Prophet_ , offering his wife a smile. "I've been thinking…"

She nibbles at her toast, eyebrows raised. She swallows. "What about?"

Ron hesitates. He knows the idea is preposterous, and now it's hard to voice it. Maybe he's just being impulsive, which makes it seem even more ridiculous since Hermione likes logic and consideration.

"What do you think about maybe having another kid?"

Hermione chokes on her toast. Quick as he can, Ron throws the newspaper aside and hurries to her, patting her back awkwardly. "I'm fine, Ronald," she says at last. "Just… another kid?"

He returns to his seat, his cheeks burning. "Well… You know… It's quiet with Rose and Hugo at school," he explains. "I don't like it."

For several moments, Hermione just stares at him. Her nose scrunches slightly, and her brown eyes narrow in thought. Ron can't help but feel a flicker of hope coursing through his veins.

"Ron, that isn't a very good idea," she says. "Hugo is nearly twelve. He and Rose are close enough in age to be friends… whenever they get along, anyway." She pauses and takes a deep breath, her fingers tapping restlessly against the table. "A twelve year difference is a bit much, don't you think?"

Of course she would have a logical outlook on this. Ron knows he should have expected it, but he can't help being more than a little disappointed. "Right. Yeah…"

…

"I would personally recommend the Nosebleed Nougat," Ron tells the eager customer before him. "Lots of effectiveness without being completely disgusting like the Puking Pastilles."

The boy giggles and reaches for it, but his mother stops him before giving Ron a reproachful look. With a shrug, Ron makes his way over to George and leans in. "Why come to a bloody joke shop if you've got a stick up your arse?" he whispers into his brother's good ear.

George shrugs. "Been asking myself that for years, mate," he says. "Now, while you were busy failing to make a sale—"

"Sod off."

"—your wife Fire Messaged," George says, as though Ron hadn't interrupted at all. "She said she has a surprise for you."

Ron considers this. After his embarrassing failure at breakfast this morning, he can't bring bring himself to get too excited. "Excellent, I guess," he says with a shrug.

"You _guess_? Normally when Ang says she has surprise for me, I come home to some fancy schmancy new dessert she's decided to try out."

Ron doubts it will be anything so grand. Still, Hermione doesn't often try to surprise him. Whatever it is, it must be important. The more he thinks about it, the more excited he gets.

…

He's practically giddy with excitement when he comes home. "Hermione?"

There's no answer. Ron checks his watch, frowning. She should definitely be home by now.

"Hermione?" he calls again.

Instead of an answer, he hears a hurried little _tap, tap, tap_. A moment later, an eager little terrier appears before him, wagging its tail. Confused, Ron kneels before it, gently scratching its head. "How'd you get in here, fella?" he asks.

"Through the door," Hermione says, appearing in the doorway. She offers him a bright smile. "Obviously."

"He's ours?"

She nods, patting her knee. "Come here, Huck," she calls, and the excited pup skids along, yipping excitedly. "See? No more empty nest."

Ron moves closer, and wraps his arms around her, kissing her gently. "It's perfect."


	11. Travel Plans

_Word Count: 366_

* * *

Ron resists the urge to complain, but it's so hard. Not only is it too bloody early in the morning to be here, but they're at King's Cross to catch a train that isn't the Hogwarts Express. In his opinion, spending Valentine's Day on a Muggle train sounds like a horrible idea, but he is not in charge of travel plans.

Hermione beams at him as she makes her way through the crowded platform, holding their tickets up. "Won't be a terribly long wait," she assures him. "Just half an hour."

Ron shrugs. "Wouldn't be a wait at all if we used magic."

Her eyes roll. "We've been over this before, Ronald," she says, picking up her luggage and carrying along. Ron follows behind her. "Magic is all nice and well, but that's not all there is to the world. I want you to experience what I grew up with."

He considers for a moment, cheeks glowing with warmth. It isn't like she's being unreasonable. He's found some Muggle things are actually quite enjoyable, like romantic comedies and video games. There's just something about the idea of being surrounded by Muggles and knowing he's out of place. "We could have driven."

She laughs. "You have not passed your exam yet."

"There's a million things I haven't done, but just you wait."

"I'm not waiting for next Valentine's Day to roll around. We're having a romantic weekend getaway, and that's final."

Ron grins and wraps an arm around her. "You know know I love it when you get all body with me."

His wife moves out of his grasp, huffing, though Ron can see the amusement in her eyes. She's trying so hard not to smile. "Behave," she says.

Grin broadening, Ron offers her a mock salute. "Oh, yes ma'am."

She playfully pushes him before leading him to a bench and taking a seat. "Thank you for agreeing to this."

Ron shrugs. It doesn't matter that there are a lot of things he doesn't like about it. In the end, the only thing that really matters is that Hermione is happy, and he would do anything to ensure that. "Happy Valentine's Day," he says, kissing her forehead.


	12. Yarn

_Word Count: 360_

* * *

Ron sits in silence, a smile on his face as he watches Hermione carefully work the cinnamon yarn in with the cream. His wife has spent years dabbling in knitting, and her creations have, for the most part, been disasters. For three years, she has given him a lopsided scarf, and he's worn each one with pride.

"You're staring," she says without looking up from her work.

"Yes."

Hermione laughs, but she remains focused. Ron has always admired that about her. Try as he might, he has never figured out how to distract her. He wishes he had her focus, but his mind is so bloody scattered that it's ridiculous.

"I've almost got the checkerboard design," she says proudly, lifting it up.

It looks nothing like a checkerboard, but Ron isn't going to tell her that. He has given her enough hell. Just this once, he will let her have this, even if it looks like cinnamon and cream mush. "That's great," he says, grinning. "What is it?"

"It's going to be a blanket."

"Wicked. Make it extra warm so we can bundle up together."

She finally sets her knitting aside and looks up at her. As she folds her arms over her chest, her lips purse. "You're in an awfully good mood today, Ronald," she says, and there's the faintest hint of teasing in her tone. "Did something happen?"

He snorts. "Why does something have to happen for me to be in a good mood?" he asks with a roll of his eyes. "I happen to be one of the most cheerful blokes you'll ever meet."

It's her turn to snort. Amusement clear in her brown eyes, she climbs to her feet and crosses the room, closing the distance between them. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

" _You_ help me sleep at night," he says, wrapping his arms around her.

He knows he hasn't always been the best partner. Sometimes he loses himself in his own interests. But there's just something so beautiful about seeing Hermione enjoying herself. It really is the smallest things that can stick with him the most, and he plans to cherish every single one.


	13. Picnics and Giraffes

_Word Count: 389_

* * *

"Mummy! Daddy!" Hugo calls from where he stands underneath the shade a tree. He reaches his tiny arms up and stands on the tips of his toes. "Look at me! I'm a giraffe!"

"Nuh-uh!" Rose runs over to him. "You're too little to be a giraffe!"

"I'm a giraffe!"

"I don't make the rules."

Ron chuckles softly and shakes his head. From his own childhood experience, he knows that family outings often lead to sibling drama. He's just glad that their drama is infinitely tamer than anything his own siblings came up with.

"Should we intervene?" Hermione asks quietly.

Ron chuckles, opening the picnic basket and plucking a grape from within. Hermione is a great mum, but she was an only child. There are still some things she's clueless about, especially where siblings are concerned. "They'll bicker a bit, then they'll hug it out." He pops the grape into his mouth before grabbing a few more. "That's what siblings do. Except Fred and George. They got revenge."

"Are you going to eat all the grapes?" his wife teases, a small smile on her lips.

"It's a picnic, Hermione. That's what I'm supposed to do."

She just rolls her eyes and closes the picnic basket, moving it out of his reach. Ron resists the urge to pout. "Family picnic," she reminds him. "Let the kids play a bit first." And with that, she stretches out, retrieving a book from her bag and opening it.

Ron sticks his tongue out at her before jumping to his feet and making his way over to his bickering kids.

"Daddy!" Hugo whines. "Rosie said I can't be a giraffe because I'm too little!"

"You can't eat the leaves," Rose huffs, her tone all too similar to her mother's. "You would starve, Hu!"

Ron makes a face. "You don't want to be a giraffe anyway," he says. "Yucky ole leaves are gross, huh? Wouldn't you rather be a Hugo and eat sandwiches, crisps, and grapes?"

His son nods excitedly. "Yeah! I want crisps!" he says, bouncing with each word.

"Good. It's picnic time!"

He leads his children back to the blanket and takes a seat. There's an almost triumphant smile on his lips as he takes the picnic basket from Hermione.

"You are ridiculous," she says with a laugh.

"I know. But you love me."


	14. Stress

_Word Count: 666_

* * *

When Ron sees Hermione at her desk with papers scattered over the surface, he knows to use caution. As much as he loves his wife, she is a force to be reckoned with when she brings her work home. He approaches slowly, reminding himself a bit of interacting with Buckbeak… Not that Hermione is anything like a hippogriff, of course.

"You'll never guess what George did at the shop today," he says, already grinning at the memory.

Hermione doesn't even look up. She keeps her gaze on the nearest file. Ron isn't sure what it is, but it looks important.

"Do you have to stand so close?" she asks. "You're making me claustrophobic."

"Right." Ron takes a step back. "Anyway, so George has been working on this new lollipop, right? Today, he added a little too much shrinking solution to the mix."

"I haven't got time for stories," Hermione snaps, looking up from the file at last. "Some of us actually have real jobs, Ronald. Real jobs making real differences in the world. It isn't all fun and games for everyone."

Ron winces. He knows she doesn't mean it. Well. Maybe she does. Hermione does have a sharper tongue than most people give her credit for. Maybe she didn't mean to say it in such a harsh way though. "Right," he says with a sigh. "Sorry to bother you."

It's been like this for a while now. Ever since Hermione became involved in lawmaking, it seems like she doesn't have time for their marriage. Ron isn't angry, of course. She's out there doing great things, and he couldn't be more proud.

Even so, it still hurts his heart a little bit. He misses the honeymoon stage, the days of being so in love with Hermione that nothing else in the world mattered at all. Things had been so happy then. He wonders if they can get back to it.

He sits on the couch in the living room, adjusting the wedding band around his finger. A heavy sigh escapes his lips. Does their marriage even mean anything to her anymore?

He shakes his head. It isn't fair to think like that. Over the years, Ron has made so much progress in processing and dealing with his emotions. He refuses to take a step back.

Hermione is doing her own thing. She is her own person, and Ron accepts that. He knows she will come around eventually.

Eventually happens sooner than expected. He's only in the living room for a few minutes when Hermione enters, an apologetic smile on her lips.

"I was extremely rude," she says.

Ron shrugs. It isn't like it's the end of the world. Once, he might have taken the chance to fight, but that's in the past. He isn't the same hot head he was when he was sixteen.

"I don't know why you still put up with me," Hermione says with a heavy sigh.

Ron looks at his wedding ring again, then at hers. A smile plays at his lips. "Because I was lucky enough to fall in love with my best friend. You aren't heartless. I know you wouldn't just be mean to me for your own amusement." He pats the spot next to him. "Wanna talk about it?"

Hermione's expression softens. She crosses the room and sits beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I was just so aggravated," she says. "All this progress we've made, and there are still so many archaic laws to undo. It makes me want to pull my hair out."

"Don't do that. You have really nice hair."

She laughs, shaking her head. "Really, Ronald?" Her voice is laced with clear affection. "That's why I shouldn't pull it out?"

He leans in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "That, and I don't like seeing you stressed."

She lifts her hand, gently grazing her fingertips over his cheek. "I know a way to relieve stress," she murmurs. "You, me, bedroom?"

Ron grins. "Let's go."


End file.
